Déchiré
by erinewens
Summary: Winter is cold and ammunition shreds flesh to shreds. Bastogne is cold and ammunition flies. (im sorry im really bad at descriptions)


All characters depicted in this fan fic are based on the HBO mini-series Band of Brothers and the characters portrayed there, and are not in any way representations of the actual veterans themselves.

this is my first fic so go easy i guess?

_**Déchiré**_

Looking back at the cold nights spent in the cold snow with the cold men mere feet away, Eugene never could figure out how he didn't foresee the destiny of everything that ever was _Babe_.

When Eugene first saw Private Edward Heffron walking alongside Guarnere, he didn't know what to think or say or do. Never had he ever been affected by someone in that way, especially someone he had only caught a glimpse of, and certainly never a _man_. He wanted to comb his fingers through the tangled mess of red hair, and find out what mysteries his eyes held.

There was the time spent in England where Eugene consoled himself amongst medical supplies. He soothed his troubled mind with counting and stacking and organising. Anything was a distraction and distraction was good. A man should not feel that way about a man. A man should not obsess over someone they hadn't uttered a word to.

Then they had to jump. They all had to jump on the enemy and Eugene had to be the healer. He had to be the saviour he could never be. He had to run to the cries of broken men and console them in their last moments. His hands were steady then as he begged to never have to treat the red head.

They spoke in Bastogne. Real words that held a promise of more to come. Babe stuttered and shivered while Eugene remained stoic. Eugene had no idea how to act when he felt like _that_. How does one talk to a man that they barely know yet can't convince their mind to stay away from?

The exchanges. First, they would make small comments to one another in passing. A small greeting, an over-used joke about the weather, a masked plea for the other to stay warm and safe. Small words that meant very little in a big war. Eugene found he had more confidence than he thought. The chocolate from Renee, who he so desperately wanted to like or love or adore or _anything_, passed on to Babe after Julian's death. Eugene did not know what else he could possibly say or do in consolation. He was thrown into death from the moment he touched down in Normandy and he had to find and make his own way around. What use were his words to a breaking Babe when they sounded so cruel and twisted in his head. So he gave Babe the chocolate and held him close and tried to keep him as safe as was physically possible. His chocolate bravery led Eugene to try more. He tried harder to talk to his broken Babe. It then became that they were friends. Eugene refused to refer to him as Babe to his face. He could not bring himself to do so. It revealed itself over time that Babe wanted to try too, Babe wanted to talk to Eugene and protect him and keep him safe.

Eugene watched the dangerous sparks in the snow. He knew that he was creating them and could stop them, yet he watched them dance and flicker anyway.

The bitter sweet moments tucked away in a frozen foxhole where Babe merely held him for Eugene was too weak to be consoled any more, or would tremble and scratch at the blood on his hands, which never seemed to wash away. To this day he still feels the essence of the men he treated trapped under his nails, no matter how hard he may scrub and pick and be assured that there is nothing there. How did he not notice Babe's hesitant hands and wary eyes? How could he put off the way that Babe's head darted from side to side when they were close? They were Eugene's moments of true weakness where he took a break from the screams and let himself out.

He always had a habit of choosing his moments well. Shells were raining in overhead and Babe was quivering in his arms. Babe looked up at him with his broken eyes and Eugene lost himself. As explosions went off around them wherever the eye could see, Eugene kissed Babe. Men were screaming for him everywhere as they bled, yet Eugene was huddled, pressing his lips against those of another. He himself was hoping for some sort of miracle, and felt as though it had been delivered when Babe's cracked lips moved with his. It lasted no longer than a moment before Eugene scared himself out of his wits and left to treat the screaming men.

There were no more kisses. Both kept busy once they finally got out of Bastogne and Foy. They travelled with Easy through more battlefields and pretty country and all the way to Hitler's palace. They celebrated V-E Day in separate circles and nodded to one another on V-J Day when they both knew they were going home for sure.

It wasn't actually a disaster, Eugene and Babe. It was a friendship that held unannounced feelings of lust and love. Eugene never looked for Babe, and avoided Babe's attempts to contact him. He was scared. He went on and married and they had beautiful children together. Eugene harboured his twisted thoughts of the war and Babe within his self and prayed for the day that it would feel _ok. _

His heart forever held the memories of his _déchiré Babe._


End file.
